


The Dragon's Keep

by rw_eaden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Half-Siblings, Dragon Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:12:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: Dean Winchester, Knight of the Mist Lands was as good as dead when he was incapacitated by a dragon and left to die in a fire. Luckily for him, Sam was there to take him home and nurse him back to health. But there’s one little problem with that; Sam is a three-quarters dragon and Dean’s code of vengeance demands he kills all dragons.Now, Dean must decide whether or not to embrace the gray area Sam has injected into his black and white worldview or if he should pretend it never happened. But how do you pretend that the man you’ve fallen for just doesn’t exist, especially when he needs your help?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my latest WIP that I'm happy to share with you all.  
> Spoilers right out of the gate, Dean and Sam are half-siblings because reasons. Yeah, I know, I'd prefer to keep that a bombshell for later but I didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea and thinking that they weren't related. So, you can either pretend you don't know or you can embrace that you know and revel in the dramatic irony.

This was how Dean was going to die. He was laid out on the forest floor, struggling to draw in a breath. He’d known he’d broken at least a few ribs when his chest rose and one side at a time, and he’d figured he’d broken his left leg when he couldn’t move it. He didn’t dare call out like this; he wouldn’t know who would actually find him first, Cas and Balthazar, or the dragons they were hunting. He’d rather take his chances with the fire than get himself eaten or used as bait.

There was roaring and shouting from somewhere off to his right, then the snapping and crackling of fire on the other side. He could already feel the warmth against his left side, and it wouldn’t be long before it got too hot and started to heat the metal covering his body. Hopefully, he could die of smoke inhalation before his flesh was seared off. Unlikely. Life had never been kind to Dean.

Thick smoke rolled over him as the underbrush caught fire a few yards away. It was horribly acidic on his tongue and down his throat. Pine trees were starting to pop and snap, burning hot and fast, their sap hissing as it boiled and evaporated.

He coughed and choked, his body screaming as he tried in vain to roll away. He sputtered, his chest aching as his body lunged forward with spasms, trying to keep the thick smoke out of his lungs. He coughed until tears made his vision foggy and he was forced to shut his eyes, still desperate for breath as his head grew light and fuzzy. Too soon he was losing himself, his last conscious thought of his mother, who died in such a similar way before consciousness failed him.

* * *

 

Dean awoke in a haze. His limbs were heavy and his throat dry, but at least he was breathing. He groaned, wiping the gunk from his eyes before he tried to raise himself up on his elbows. He shifted, gasping in pain from the pressure it put on his chest. He collapsed back to the ground, only about an inch or so, but it still hurt. There were furs underneath his body, brushing against his hands and legs, but the floor beneath him was hard and it still twinged through his back and chest.

“Hey, don’t get up yet,” a soft, calming voice came out of the darkness, “you’ve got some broken bones.”

Dean groaned, lying flat on his back. His legs hurt and so did his chest, but less so when he was on his back. His head was swimming, and he could hardly make out the shapes in the darkness. “What happened?”

“I can’t say for sure but I think you got a tail to the gut,” the voice said. “You’ve got some broken ribs and a broken leg. Your left side is a little burned but nothing that won’t get better with rest and ointment. You’re lucky I found you.”

Yup, Dean remembered that. He, Cas, and Balthazar had tracked a dragon down into a clearing. They thought they had the upper hand, being that there were three of them and it was still human at the time. Stupid them. Dean wound up getting knocked back into the woods and then shit caught on fire. He was lucky he wasn’t dead, honestly.

“The other men I was with? Did you happen to see them?” Dean asked.

“You were with others?”

“Two knights.”

“I didn’t see anyone else,” the voice said.

Dean was silent then, processing. Cas and Balthazar could be dead. Or they could have gotten away.

“What about the dragon?”

“Dead, as far as I could tell.”

Well, at least one of them was probably alive then. That was good.

Dean shifted, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position. The furs under his body were soft and warm against his skin. He glanced down, finding himself naked in the low light. His chest was wrapped tight bandages and his leg was set and bound against a smooth plank.

“Where?” Dean asked.

“I brought you to my home,” the voice said.

“You’re welcome to stay until you’re healed. It’s just me, here.” There was some shifting around to the side of him, in the darkness. “I should check your wounds. Are you thirsty?”

Dean grumbled a yes and shut his eyes. It helped a little and kept his nausea at bay.

His helped shuffled around in the darkness until there was a solid presence on Dean’s left. Nimble fingers pressed against his side and eased him to lean on his right side. Dean hissed as the bandages were peeled off his skin, no doubt taking tried puss and blood with them.

“I’m sorry,” the voice said, “I know it hurts.”

“’S fine,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “I’ve had worse.”

“Ready?”

“No, not really.” Dean let out a sharp gasp as another layer of bandage was removed. It felt like it had taken an entire layer of skin with it.

His helper chuckled behind him. “What were you doing so far out here anyway? I haven’t seen knights around here in ages.”

“Following a trail,” Dean said, “there was an attack on the village recently, a whole fuckin’ nest of them, so we gotta – fuck, don’t pull so hard – we gotta track them down.”

“You were following a trap. There are no dragon nests around here. Well, not any big ones. There’s maybe one or two dragons within fifty miles of that clearing.”

“Fuckin’ figures,” Dean hissed. A warm cloth was placed against his skin, and the gunk was dabbed and brushed away by his helper’s steady hands. Dean himself was trembling and gritting his teeth.

“What was your name anyway?” The voice asked.

“Dean. Dean Winchester of the Mist Lands.”

“I’m Sam.”

“You got a last name, Sam?”

“No, just Sam,” Sam said, a waver in his voice. Men without last names were usually not to be trusted. Only outlaws were stripped of their last names and left to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Sometimes the tradition was passed on to the children of people who’d been banished, but the children rarely lived to adulthood, as they were either orphaned or sentenced to banishment with their parents. A man without a last name was a man without a family or a home.

“We’re almost done,” Sam said, slathering something cold across Dean’s side.

Dean didn’t speak anymore. He wasn’t in the mood or the position to argue with Sam or raise any protest. After all, the man had saved his life and was willing to care for him until he was well again. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to be picky about who cared for him.

The cool gel was spread across Dean’s side and then Sam bandaged him up again, lifting his hips with a single hand so that he could roll the bandage all the way around Dean’s body. Dean let himself be manhandled back onto his back, then allowed Sam to cradle his head while he drank cool water from a bowl. Dean’s eyes watered as he forced himself to swallow us much as he could stand, the pain in his body finally starting to come back with a vengeance. Just breathing was painful, and he found himself trying to draw in shallow breaths so as not to make it worse.

“Easy,” Sam said, setting his head back onto the furs, “I can get you something for the pain but it’s going to taste terrible.”

Dean nodded quickly, squeezing his eyes tight in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. Sam instructed him to open his mouth and he did, allowing a cold sludge to pour against his tongue. It was putrid and smelled like rosemary and elderberries. Still, Dean choked it down and Sam allowed him to chase it with more cool water.

It was agony, laying on his back on the hard ground. Everything was too hot and too achy, and he whimpered, unable to do anything to stop it. Sam stroked a hand through Dean’s hair, murmuring soothing nonsense. It made him feel like a child, but he didn’t dare turn away from it. It was nice, even if Dean’s nerves were frayed to the point of screaming.

It took too long, but eventually, the medicine took effect and Dean sighed into the furs. He fell asleep soon after that.

* * *

 

It was hard to tell time in the darkness.

“Where are we?” Dean grumbled shortly after waking. The ache in his body was back but it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

Sam grumbled and there was a soft thud from somewhere in the darkness. “What?”

“Where are we?” Dean asked again.

“You’re in my home, Dean. I’m Sam. I saved you.”

Dean groaned, trying to stretch his body. The small lamp that had been overhead had died out sometime in his sleep. “I know that. I remember. I mean why is it so dark?”

“It’s night time.”

“Still?”

“Again. You were out for nearly a day last time. Before that, you were out for two.”

“Damn,” Dean muttered.

“Are you hungry? In pain?” Sam asked. He was moving around in the dark, without a lamp.

“It hurts, but I’ll be okay for a while, I think,” Dean said. He was able to take in a deep breath without a minimal amount of shuttering on the inhale. That had to be a good sign.

“You should eat. I have some soup,” Sam said.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said.

There was more banging around somewhere in the room, the clatter of pots and the sound of someone dragging a sack across the room. Though Dean’s eyes were open, it was hard to pinpoint where the movement was coming from. There was a sudden small crackle and an orange glow coming from across the room. A small fire sprang to life and Dean was able to make out the cast iron cauldron sitting on the floor, over the fire. The rest of the room was bathed in the warm light and Dean was able to make out his surroundings a little better. The walls around him were stone, glimmering an oily black in the firelight. There were shelves carved out of the wall, some containing pots and jars and herbs, others holding books and metal instruments Dean didn’t recognize. The floor was the same stone as the walls, though there were a few pallets of fur organized into comfortable looking piles. The realization hit Dean suddenly. He was in a cave.

“I hope you like carrots. I know they’re not super substantial but it’s all I’ve got right now. I was hunting when I found you, but I won’t go back out until you’re a little more aware of yourself,” Sam said. He looked up at Dean from over the cauldron and Dean was able to get a good look at his face. He was a soft looking face and if Dean had to guess he would put him somewhere around twenty-three or so. His eyes the color of unfiltered honey, and his brown hair curled out just under his ears. He was smiling in a sweet way that almost put Dean at ease. Almost. Dean had almost been able to miss the small, curled horns that sprouted from Sam’s temples and pointed back towards the back of Sam’s head, but once he saw them they were impossible to un-see. He noticed too, the hand wrapped around the stirring ladle, which was mostly human except for the dark nails and patches of red scales up the back of his hand, glimmering in the firelight.

Dean gulped, his eyes darting around the cave. He couldn’t see the exit, and even if he could there was no way to escape; his leg was still in a splint. Sam seemed unaware of Dean’s revelation and continued to chatter on about something. Dean wasn’t paying attention. All he knew was that he was completely screwed. His savior was a dragon. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back now so that's good!   
> Sorry about the lack of posting, I kinda had an unplanned fic hiatus for a while. My health wasn't in the best place to be writing but I'm here now so hopefully, I can post more regularly than once every four months. (Yikes, right?) 
> 
> Some housekeeping is in order. This fic will eventually touch on some darker topics (noncon elements will show up) but not right now. I'll warn for those a chapter in advance. Also, this fic doesn't really deal with dark topics between Dean and Sam. Their relationship (as it develops) is of their own volition. Other people might try to get in the way and do bad things, but Sam and Dean aren't really interested in hurting each other.

Dean let out a slow breath, staring at the man hovering over the fire. Sam was a dragon and he was completely incapacitated. He scanned the room for anything sharp but found nothing within reach. So, out of a fire and straight into a dragon’s nest for him then. Of all the shit luck in the world.

“Dean?” Sam asked, his voice spiking in concern as he pulled away from the cauldron, “are you alright?”

Dean jerked up to a more erect sitting position, dragging his eyes away from Sam. If he said anything now, chances were that he could wind up with his throat ripped out. Whatever this dragon was planning, obviously he wasn’t interested in eating Dean right that minute. Dean could find a way to get out of this, he just had to wait it out and slip out when Sam was sleeping. In the dark. With a busted leg. God knows where.

“Sorry,” Dean said, “I- uh- got a little foggy there for a minute.”

“Is your head okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘S fine. I think I’m just hungry.”

“Well, you’re in luck. It’s just about done,” Sam smiled, a hint of sharp fangs peeking out from behind his lips. Dean gulped.

Sam walked away from the cauldron, turning towards the shelves on the far wall. His massive tail curled around behind his feet. Sam’s tail was as red as the blotchy scales that ran up his arms, though there were sizable spikes lying flat along the spine of it. It was possible they were the type to shoot out and inject their targets with venom. Dean hated those. He’d been stung with one when he was still training to track dragons, and his arm had been numb for a week afterward. It was thicker than Dean’s thigh, even with the heavy leather Dean usually wore as armor when he was out hunting. Where had that gone anyway? Sam probably destroyed it and his sword, too.

Sam came back into view, ladling soup into a wooden bowl. He walked over to Dean, a small smile still plastered on his face. “Here, it’s hot. Obviously.”

Dean took the bowl but refused to look Sam in the eye. “Thanks,” he muttered. He didn’t want to eat, not given when he now knew, but he couldn’t remember the last time he actually did. Bodily needs won out, and Dean put the bowl to his lips and drank. It was watery, but it wasn’t terrible and he drank quickly until the only thing left in the bowl was small nubs of carrot. He chewed those, too. His eyelids were heavy by the time he’d finished and he only gave a brief thought to the idea that Sam might’ve drugged him before he left himself fall into the darkness of sleep.

\---

Dean was asleep again, but for that, Sam was grateful. If there was any way he could gain the knight’s trust before the man was capable of walking again he’d have to figure it out. It wasn’t that he was especially worried, he knew he could hold his own if need be, but he didn’t want to be forced to do it. He’d saved the man’s life after all, and it would be a shame to have to kill him after nursing him back to health. Sam didn’t anticipate that, though. If need be, he could knock the man out and dump him in the woods after he was healed.

Why he decided to help Dean, though, Sam wasn’t entirely sure. He’d come across many knights in his day, most of them intent on killing him and he’d never spared a second thought to whether or not they deserved to die he’d just ended them as quickly as possible. Dean though, there was something different about him. He had intended to check on his traps and hopefully come home with a few rabbits when he walked into the woods, but then the fire had started and Sam ran into Dean. He looked so helpless lying there broken and bloody, surrounded by flame, and Sam just didn’t have it in him to kill the man. Maybe if he didn’t show any signs of pulling through after a week or two Sam would have ended it out of mercy. Dean had surprised him though, mumbling in his sleep even in the first day after his rescue. If nothing else Dean was stubborn and that was a good thing. Or perhaps it was bad. Time would tell.

Dean seemed well and truly out so Sam decided it would be best to slip out of the cave for a while. It was early evening, so at least Sam would have some time before the sunset to tend his garden and check the traps he’d set in the underbrush at the base of the mountain.

Sam made his way out of the main chamber of the cave, lifting his tail so it wouldn’t drag across the floor behind him. Dean didn’t even stir. He made his way into the long tunnel out of the main chamber and towards the mouth of the cave. His cave wasn’t that far from the base but it was on the side of the mountain that got the most wind and it was almost too steep to traverse on foot. It wasn’t an ideal place for a home but it was good enough for Sam. He had enough pelts to keep the worst of the drafts out and the isolation made him less likely to be bothered by his kin. Or, at least that’s how it was supposed to work in theory. Dragons were never meant to be solitary creatures, and most of them knew that. Something inside of him must’ve gotten lost though because he had no drive to spend more time than he had to with his nest or anyone else. That didn’t stop the occasional visit from his kin, however.

Sam spread his wings, letting the muscles stretch. The sun was low in the sky, painting the sky a deep red. Sam flapped his wings a few times, letting them kick up dust around his feet before taking to the air. He let his wings propel him higher, up towards the peak before he folded them against his back and allowing himself to fall, head first. About a hundred or so feet above the base, he spread his wings, gliding into the forest on momentum. He let himself swerve through the trees, their branches brushing against his legs and tail as he moved. He slowed, landing on a bow near the top of an oak. 

The forest was quiet. Perhaps a little too quiet, but he didn’t expect it to be more active. Not at least while he was present and his scent was still noticeable. He let himself drop to the forest floor with a soft thud and followed the path to his traps. He made a note to himself to rotate the traps before the month’s end, to keep the rabbits from noticing his pattern and wandering away for too long. That was a mistake he’d made too many times as a fledgling, and it meant more than one winter on nothing but roots and preserves. 

A faint hissing caught his attention as he rounded the bend, making his way to the snare he’d laid out towards the river. He jerked towards the sound, flaring his wings. He caught a blur of movement and the hint of gray flickering as it whipped behind a tree. Sam sighed. 

“Come on out, Ruby,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

Ruby poked her head from out behind the tree, her long blonde hair falling over her face. “You’re no fun, Sam,” she groaned. 

Sam huffed. “What are you doing here?” 

“What? I can’t visit my favorite nest mate?” She came out from behind the tree, having shifted fully into her human form. In her dragon form, she was all steel gray with rust-colored patches of scales along her spine and head. She’d thought it looked a little like a tiara when they were younger, but as she’d grown the pattern had shifted lower on her skull. 

“No,” Sam said. 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Always the pessimist aren’t you, Sam? This is why no one invites you to things.” 

“I thought it was because I stopped showing up,” Sam snarked, “but now that I know it’s my cheery disposition I’ve got all the more reason to keep it up.” 

Ruby leveled him a suspicious look before stalking closer. “Anyway. A little birdy told me you’ve had some trouble in your neck of the woods. Apparently, some knights got it in their heads they could find dragons out this far.” 

“A little birdy, huh?” 

“Birdy, dragon, what’s the difference really?” 

“You wouldn’t have an idea why they’d think a dragon would be out here in the middle of nowhere, would you?” 

“Other than the fact there was one?” 

Sam snorted. “Well, it wasn’t me. I’m never that careless.” 

“You say that now, but you and I both know that if a few knights found themselves out here it’s not going to be long before more show up.” 

“Unless they’re all dead,” Sam said. 

Ruby raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’d kill knights? Mister ‘the humans are just frightened animals, we should leave them alone and they’ll leave us alone’? I have a hard time believing that one.” 

“Well, believe it,” Sam said, “I’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

“You know, you wouldn’t ever have anything to worry about if you just moved back to the nest.” 

Sam growled, flexing his hands into fists. “You know I’m not going to do that.” 

“Look, I know whatever happened between you and dad -” 

“Don’t call him that,”  Sam snarled. 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Whatever happened to piss you off isn’t worth your safety.” 

“Right,” Sam said, “that’s easy for you to say.” 

Ruby groaned, tossing her face skyward. “Why are you so melodramatic? Why can’t you just listen to us for once in your life?” 

Sam huffed, smoke billowing from his nostrils. “Why can’t you just give me what I ask for, for once in my life?” 

It was Ruby’s turn to growl now, her eyes flashing from their usual brown to a deep crimson. “Because, Sam, whether you like it or not this isn’t just about you. You know it. I know it. The whole nest knows it. You can play at being a hermit all you want but one of these days you’re going to have to face who you are. You’re one of us. And if you keep pretending like you’re not, nothing good will from it. Not for you and not for any of us either.” 

“Now who’s being melodramatic?” 

“You know what? Fine. You want to live your life in the middle of the woods with no family, that’s fine. Just don’t be surprised when you die alone,” Ruby snapped. She shifted forms before Sam had a chance to reply, wings and tail sprouting from where there had once between nothing but smooth skin. She was half shifted when she took to the sky, waiting until she cleared the tree line before she took her full form, blotting out what was left of the sun. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Bye to you, too,” he muttered. 

She’d be back. She always was. It was either her or Ava most of the time, though Brady did make a few appearances when the seasons changed. Azazel seemed to think that if he sent a few of Sam’s nest mates frequently enough Sam would change his mind about living in solitude. It didn’t matter though, he wasn’t going back no matter how much the begged, bribed, or derided him. If he had to live out the rest of his life completely alone so be it. It was better than the asinine plan they seemed to want him to follow. He’d frankly rather die alone. 

It would be nice to have a companion, though. He got along fine with Brady, but Brady was mated and had hatchlings to take care of. Ava was a little too snippy for his tastes and Ruby was too hot and cold. Added to that the fact that they would rather spend their lives in the nest than outside of it, long-term companionship with any of them wouldn’t work. There would always be pressure to go back because they wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. They had freedom, more or less. They could live amongst humans or dragons if that’s what they wanted. Sam though, he didn’t fit in anywhere. Sam though, Sam was cursed to be a freak. 

The traps proved minimally fruitful. Only one of the snares had caught anything, and it was an unfortunately small rabbit. It would be big enough for a meal if Sam split it for Dean and himself. He’d have to rotate them in the next day or so, but when he had more light. A handful of tomatoes were ripe, though, and they would make a nice addition to the rabbit. 

Sam took to the air just after the sunset, making it back to his home soon after. He set his kill and the tomatoes down in separate pots before lighting the candles he’d placed around the living area. He’d get to skinning the rabbit and preparing it for a meal in a while after he washed the dirt from under his claws. Though, as he lit the candles around the chamber it soon became apparent that he was alone. Dean had vanished from the pallet Sam had made for him. He scented the air, trying to catch a whiff of whoever might have been in his house while he was gone. Surely Ruby hadn’t known he was lying about the sparing the knight. And, even if she did she wouldn’t really have the audacity to kidnap him, would she? Okay, she actually might. Sam snarled to himself, trying to pick up any foreign odor in the cave. 

There was nothing, though. It was just his and Dean’s scents, mingled with the burning fat from the candles. Dean hadn’t left, had he? He was well on his way to recovery but humans were fragile. They broke much easier than any dragon he knew and required more time to heal from their wounds. There would be no way for Dean to stand, much less walk out of the cave. 

Sam took off for the other chambers in the cave. Perhaps Dean had needed to relieve himself and crawled towards the bathroom. He hadn’t needed to since Sam helped him with the chamber pot earlier in the day when Dean was still mostly unaware of his surroundings, but maybe he decided he couldn’t wait. But Dean wasn’t in the chamber Sam used to bath or relieve himself. He wasn’t in the storage chamber, either. He wasn’t even in one of the spare chambers Sam hadn’t found a use for. 

Sam sighed, stepping out of the cave and into the twilight. Dean’s scent was faint, carried off by the wind, but he did catch a hint of it. He bent to the ground, sniffing the dirt where Dean’s scent was stronger. He had been here, probably within the last hour or so. There were heel prints in the dirt, and Sam followed their trail down the slope of the mountain for ten feet or so before they stopped completely. Sam frowned, glancing around for a sign of Dean. To the right of him, a bush rustled. 

Sam crouched low, peaking into the thick brush. Wide, green eyes stared back at him through the gaps in the leaves. Sam sighed, reaching into the bushes. Dean hissed trying to scramble backward but gasped in pain. Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of Dean’s arm, hauling him out of the brush. Dean groaned as Sam threw him over his shoulder. Dean didn’t say much, just whimpered, as Sam walked back into the cave and set Dean down on his pallet again. 

Sam finished lighting the candles in the main chamber without speaking, before pouring some fresh water into a bowl and kneeling at Dean’s side. Dean lay still, breathing hard as Sam took him in. He was still naked but now covered in more dirt and scratches than before. He’d torn the bandages around his chest and leg, and his right ankle was swollen and purple. He huffed and started the process of gathering the things he would need to heal Dean’s wounds.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” Sam said, dipping a clean bowl into the last drum of clean water he had. Great. He’d have to get more of that, soon, too. Maybe he’d knock Dean out before he left the next time. “But, you need to stay here or you’re going to die out there.” 

Dean scoffed behind him. 

Sam came back to the pallet, setting the bowl of water down next to Dean while he pulled bandages and salve from a basket close to his own pallet. “I know you don’t like dragons,” Sam said, using his nail to cut the bindings away from Dean’s legs, “but I think you’d like dying a lot less.” 

Dean said, nothing, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. He whimpered under his breath as Sam rotated his legs, checking for scrapes and bruises. He cried out when Sam pressed a single finger to the inside of his purpling ankle. “You sprained your ankle,” Sam said. 

“Good for me,” Dean hissed. 

“And you’re covered in scrapes,” Sam muttered, slicking the bandages around Dean’s chest, “probably re-broke a few ribs, too.” 

Neither of them said anything as Sam bunched up the used bandages and tucked them away for later disposal. He then set to work cleaning the cuts and scrapes that peppered Dean’s body, trying to be gentle though Dean whined and jerked away all the same. The water in the bowl was murky with dirt and blood by the time he finished. Sam then set out to smear the salve on Dean’s skin. 

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked, “you know that as soon as I get better I’m leaving. I could kill you before then. Or I could bring my knights back and kill you and your nest.” 

Sam hummed, wiping his salve covered hand on the fur under Dean’s leg. “Maybe I thought you didn’t deserve to die.” 

Dean snorted. “Right. I’ve killed hundreds of your kind and you expect me to believe that.” 

“And dragons haven’t killed hundreds of humans? You’re not every knight, Dean. You were a broken man in a desperate situation,” Sam said. 

Dean hummed, hissing again when Sam lifted his ankle and wrapped it in bandages. The wrapping went much quicker, now that Dean was awake to aid in moving his body enough so that Sam could get the cloth in tighter coils. 

“Besides,” Sam said, “I’d hope someone would do the same for me. It’s the kind thing to do.” 

Dean tutted, shaking his head. “A kind dragon. Now I’ve seen everything.” 

“Given your line of work, I wouldn’t expect you’d run into many. The ones who aren’t worried about attacking villages usually try to stay out of your way. Or they’re cornered and have no choice but to fight back.” 

“Right, so you’re saying the dragon that lured me and my brother out into the woods and tried to kill us was just cornered,” Dean sneered. 

“I can’t justify the actions of every single dragon and I won’t even if I could,” Sam said, letting go of Dean’s ankle. Dean hissed as it hit the ground. “You humans aren’t the only ones who’ve been wronged, you know.” 

Sam collected the bowls and bandages to put them away. Dean stopped him with a hand on his wrist. 

“Did they make you live out here on your own?” Dean asked. 

Sam sighed, the faint burn of smoke tingling his nostrils. He didn’t mean to get so heated, but after Ruby and now Dean he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of this. “No,” he said, “I live here of my own free will.” 

“Oh,” Dean said, letting go of Sam’s wrist, “I just figured -” 

“They killed my mother,” Sam said. He turned his back to Dean, putting his things back in their place. “She was a halfling and didn’t do as they wanted so they killed her.” 

“Oh,” Dean’s voice was a lot softer then, “I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you,” Sam said. 

Dean was quiet for the rest of the night, not speaking unless spoken to. It was unnerving to have a silent companion in his home, but Sam left it alone. Perhaps they needed some time to adjust to each other and process their respective days. After all, Sam had decided a long time ago that there were some humans who had to have redeeming qualities, but this was probably the first time Dean had been exposed to a dragon who wasn’t intent on killing him, let alone had a conversation with them. Hopefully, this would be the way to bridge that gap between humans and the dragons that inhabited the plains and mountains, the ones that weren’t concerned with attacking humans who minded their own business. 

After dinner was finished and the fire under the cauldron was all embers, Sam blew out the lights and settled down on his bed of furs. He’d given Dean an elixir to ease his pain and help him sleep throughout the night. In the morning he’d see how Dean was feeling and if he had to he’d give him more. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need more, as his supplies were already low and he desperately needed to get out of his cave and trade for more items. And he needed to hunt again and get more fresh water. 

“Hey, Sam?” Dean’s voice was slow, slurred just slightly from the medication. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

“Thank you. For saving me. And finding me when I was an idiot and tried to leave,” he said. 

Sam chuckled to himself. “You’re welcome, Dean.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me happy :) 
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://marymotherofmonsters.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope that was enough to keep your interest up! I don't know how often I'm going to be updating this thing but I'm hoping to make it once a month at the very latest. I dunno how long this is gonna be but I do have a plan for what's going to happen in terms of where we're going and how it's gonna end and stuff so that's not an issue.  
> Also, knowing me, the explicit stuff will take a while to get to and it will most likely be bottom!Dean (and proabably DP 'cause Sam's got a tail and if you think I'm not playing with that you don't know me. lol). I might add some switching but who knows? We'll get there when we get there.  
> Comments and kudos give me life and make me super happy!  
> If you wanna come chat with me, I'm [here on tumblr](http://marymotherofmonsters.tumblr.com/)!


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